Friday, 1 February 2019


In a large, bright and airy dormitory kind of space, with old fashioned windows high on the left hand wall. It's almost like a wing, and there is music booming from the next portion, which is at an angle to where I am. I am sure Eff Tee and a friend are playing this music but cannot see them as where the wing turns at a slight angle there is a wall (to their room?). I am talking to a woman about this. The few people here feel like they are from my primary school class, but they feel grown up in the way that they have adult minds, but visually their age is hard to define. I have a bunch of pound coins in a stack held between my finger and thumb. Someone is trying to give me a few more coins, saying that I had dropped all of them and failed to pick these up at the time. We argue in a friendly manner that the extra coins are not mine. Gee Emm is driving us back from somewhere. We are in a classic styled American car with a green paintjob. Gee almost drives straight into a wall as the parking garage has recently been remodelled. Previously you could go straight ahead, but now you have to turn right where there are two parking bays (in turn separated by a wall). Gee pulls into the first bay, capable of holding about 10 cars, and, to my surprise, parks carelessly. I see a close up as he scrapes the car off of two scooters, damaging their paintwork. I am concerned at his lack of skill, knowing he is a pilot- 

I am called away from whatever it is I am doing - I am somewhere on a crowded stairwell taking a call on an old 2004 Nokia mobile - and join the writer, director and designer from Electric Man on the set of their film about baseball, Stealing Second. Dee Bee, Ess Bee and Ess EmmSee are standing in front of a glazed door that has a lot of fine timber beading running horizontally at 50cm or so intervals to create a decorative pattern. Somehow at the top the beading means there is no room for a traditional timber frame (of, say, 8cm or so) and the whole thing looks wrong visually. They cannot work this out and ask me for advice. There are two makeshift timber shelves in front of the door, with pots of varnish and such on them, and as I move them out the way to get a better view they seem to comically crash down on the writer's head - on the second occasion a hammer hits him. This seems to alternate between an extreme close up inspecting the timber beading and a wider shot to watch the slapstick from behind. I feel so close to solving the puzzle- 

I am then sitting with Shaun Ryder. He is wearing shades and I am a little surprised at how big his head is. It seems unnaturally large. When he opens his mouth he has a chain running from either side with a plate in the middle running across his bottom set of teeth. This plate has some writing embossed on it, like a far sturdier GI dog tag, or indeed a bracelet. He removes this? I notice that he seems to have lots of lower teeth, enough so that every three teeth or so there is a section - equivalent to about three molars - that has been infilled with a solid, coloured light. These look like traditional nightlights, a purple or green hued section of frosted plastic. I sit, fascinated by this large display of teeth and glowing lights-

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